Only Her Smokejumper Firefighter - Cami Checketts Page 0,20

too cold.

Miraculously, she heard a loud engine.

“Thank you,” she breathed, stunned, relieved, and so grateful she would repeat thank you over and over after she got out of this cold wind.

She tried to raise her arms to wave the car down, unable to turn and face the oncoming vehicle without tripping over her numb feet. She only had her arms to waist level when it roared past, almost hitting her. She watched it go, realizing despondently that it was a truck, not a car. A big truck bellowing diesel with a snowmobile half-hanging out of the back.

Despair overcame her and she sank toward the asphalt.

Her one chance, and it blew on past.

Suddenly the truck stopped with a screech and then came revving back to her in reverse. She felt like her heart should be bursting with happiness, but an ominous feeling washed over her, similar to how it felt when she’d ditched Ren four months ago and when she’d walked out on him again this morning.

The truck slammed to a stop and the driver’s door burst open. A large man jumped out, dressed in snow gear with a cap on. He was even bigger than Ren and looked extremely intimidating. He hurried over to her and the darkness in her chest blossomed. His brown eyes raked over her and a smile grew on his face. “Well, pretty lady, looks like you’re needing me today.”

Mavyn wanted the warmth that was waiting in the cab of his truck almost more than she wanted Ren, but through the darkness this man emitted, a voice said quietly to her, Don’t go.

She struggled to her feet, shuffled back a step, and blubbered through numb lips, “Can you call a tow for me? Do you have service?”

He grinned. “We’ll get your car towed later. It was halfway up the canyon in the snowbank? The Tahoe?”

She nodded.

“Don’t worry about your car. Everything will be just fine. You look frozen.”

She mustered up the most sass she could and shook her head. “I’m just fine. Please call a tow truck for me. I’ll wait.”

He hooted at that. “You’re frozen little lady. Let’s get you in my truck where it’s warm. I’ll have you to my house in no time. I’ll strip you out of those clothes and soon you’ll be …” He trailed his tongue over his bottom lip. “Warm. Very, very warm.”

Mavyn’s terror ratcheted up and her heart beat faster. It made her feel even more awful with her freezing limbs and face, but his words only confirmed what she already knew. Call it the Spirit or her own good intuition that had only failed her when she was a dumb eighteen-year-old and fallen for Bruce. If she got in that truck, horrible things would happen to her.

“No,” she said as forcefully as she could.

“No?” He tilted his head and appraised her as if she were a deer he had in the sights of his hunting rifle. “You’re daring to tell me no?”

“No!” she yelled. “I won’t go with you!”

His grin became wolfish as he stalked toward her. “Sorry.” He chuckled. “No isn’t an option for you, pretty lady. You’re cold. I’m gonna heat you up in ways that you are gonna lo-ove.”

Mavyn tried to back up, but she couldn’t move fast enough. He grabbed her arm and hauled her against his chest. He smelled like diesel fumes and sweat. Mavyn was small and wouldn’t have been a match for a brute like him even when she was feeling great. As awful and stiff as she was right now, she could hardly move to fight or hit, though she tried.

She kicked at him and bit his hand. He cursed her and then easily tossed her over his shoulder like a small child. He stomped toward his truck, laughing to himself as if he’d just caught a prize.

Please help, please help, she begged to an uncaring heavenly parent.

She’d almost frozen to death and instead of sending help as she’d prayed, He’d sent a man who was intent on hurting her worse than the cold ever could. It was par for the course with her relationship with heaven, but still, it hurt all over again. She’d wondered over the years if Pastor Johnston was wrong and maybe heaven could still love her, but moments like this confirmed that would never happen.

Why couldn’t she ever get help from above?

She knew the answer. Her pastor had drilled it into her: she could never be forgiven or loved because she’d turned her back